Times Never Expected
by a mind for always
Summary: Though it has been many years since the war had finalised, Hermione still suffers from its after effects and finds herself unable to move on. But with a little bit of a push from the faits her life will take a turn that was not expected. Non epilogue compliant.
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER ONE**

The cold night air snapped repeatedly against the Burrow, each floor swaying slightly in a different direction as the magic holding it together strained to keep it from falling apart. Overgrown trees whipped and scratched down the windows in time with the howling of the wind. And in the dead of the night a warm glow shone from the third floor window.

Hermione stood facing the mirror, in the small bathroom of the Burrow, brushing her teeth. Clad in her flannelette pajamas and hair sitting atop her head in a matted mess, Hermione's mind mulled over the time that had passed since the war had ended, and the kindness that the years had bestowed upon her slight, yet womanly figure.

Eight years it has been since Harry defeated the dark wizard Voldemort. Eight years it has been since the minds of Mr and Mrs Granger were lost due to the attempted reversal of their memories. And in those same eight years the only family Hermione had left, the Weasley's, had disbanded and scattered themselves across the wizarding world.

Tip-toeing out of the bathroom and turning the light off with a quick flick of her wrist Hermione made her way down to Ginny's old bedroom on the second floor. Remembering to step around the squeaky floor boards, so as not to wake Molly and Arthur - the only other residents in the now quiet house - Hermione slipped into her room, closed the door, cast a silencing spell on herself as she fell into a fitful sleep.

Though many years had passed since the horrors of the war, Hermione still lived with the scars both physical and mental, that had been inflicted upon her. The latter preferring to show itself during the nights dreams where she relived each torturous memory of the moments spent as a captive of the war. Fitful though the sleep was, the slightest sound that did not belong sent Hermione into an awakening state with the mindset of the war still imminent upon herself.

And it was on this night that a loud CRACK from the distance and an eery wailing, alerting of a breach of the Burrow wards, that woke Hermione in a cold sweat.


	2. Chapter 2

A cold sweat swept of Hermione as she broke the silencing spell and quietly tip toed to the window across the room. Peering out past the immediate garden of the Burrow, she felt a sense of dread swallowing her as a large figure marched towards the house glancing at the surroundings.  
Gulping, Hermione felt a thousand possibilities present themselves in her mind. Making way to the bedroom door Hermione heard muffled footsteps coming from above her head. Peering past the bedroom door and making her way down to the first floor landing where Hermione could see the kitchen she hid in the shadows waiting, watching.

Footsteps approached Hermione from behind and she felt the presence of another body in seconds. Peering up into the tired face of Arthur, she saw the worry lines that had made their way onto his aging face. And together they stood waiting for the imminent danger.

The front door squeaked open, a second of yellow light tinged the end of a wand in what must have been a spell cast by the intruder and the wailing the old house made in the night ceased.

"A friend possibly," Hermione muttered to Arthur, knowing full well only members of the old Order knew how to break the spell.

Still they held their positions, as the heavy foot falls of the figure slowly made their way into the kitchen. A loud thump then a muttered word in rage indicated the figure walking into the corner of the kitchen table.

"Lumos," the deep voice of the intruder muttered, and a soft glow permeated the darkness of the kitchen.

As the light shone over the tall man in the kitchen, it showed him to nearly touch the ceiling with his head and broad shoulders that fit his hight.

Hermione found her voice and barked out a quick, "Halt!"

Freezing the figure tried to peer over to where Hermione and Arthur stood in the shadows, but seeing nothing went to make his way further into the room. Hermione felt panic begin to stir her nerves.

"I said halt!" Hermione yelled at the man.

A stony expression flittered across the mans face as Hermione threw a silent immobulus at his form. Letting the tiniest slither of relief clear her mind as the situation was under her control a little more, she cleared her throat and in a strong voice she said, "identify yourself!"

A scoff barely heard came from the mans mouth. Hermione saw danger flash through the strangers eyes, but with Arthur's support behind her and a warm hand on her arm all the possibilities of danger seemed to flutter to the farthest reaches of her mind, as she tried to discern who this man was.

"And what makes you so sure I would do such a thing?"

"Because I'll hex your balls of if you don't!"

"Do your worst sweetheart," the mocking voice of the man replied.

"Find out who he is, Hermione. Friend or foe," whispered the steady voice of Arthur in her ear.

Straitening her shoulders and holding her wand more firmly in her hand like she had not done since the war, Hermione stepped out of the shadows ever so slightly. Away from the comfort of security Arthur gave her.

Leveling her wand at the stranger's crotch she cleared her mind as she looked unto his face, and looked for all there ever was to know about this stranger in her home. Sucking in her breath and hands flying to her mouth in shock Hermione knew who this man was. With a deft movement of her wand the spell was lifted.

"You're back," Hermione stated as she moved closer and reached to sweep the hair out the mans eyes.

They hadn't called Hermione the brightest witch of her age for the fun of it. She knew the man from many years back in her memories and from the pictures situated in precarious places around the nooks and cranny's of the Burrow's innards. He was different however, the hair was as clear as a day, though more kept than when she had seen it last. The sand on his shoes from where he had been last, the bitten fingernails on the large, strong hands and where a ring had left a tan line. And the faint scar of where an earring had once taken pride of place and the other scars that had been left from the war - like on so many others - all lent themselves as to why Hermione now found herself switching lights on in the kitchen.

Turning to where Arthur stood in the shadows she saw a lone tear stagger its way down his aged cheek as he hobbled his way into the kitchen.


End file.
